The collapse of the Pakistan-Saudi mutual defence pact offers a useful reminder about the difference between agreements and commitments Pakistan and Saudi Arabia announced their Strategic “Mutual Defence Agreement" with considerable pomp and grandeur at Riyadh’s Al-Yamamah Palace in September 2025. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and Shehbaz Sharif signed the pact, declaring that any aggression against one country would be considered aggression against both. The joint statement spoke of “historic partnership" and “shared strategic interests". Officials briefed reporters about deterrence, collective security and regional stability. Five months on, that agreement has faced its first real tests. Both signatories found themselves under fire. Neither lifted a finger to help the other. The pact, it turned out, worked beautifully on paper. Reality proved that the agreement actually lies in tatters. According to News18’s Manoj Gupta, Pakistan has shipped a few air defence missiles to Saudi Arabia, but that is just about it. And we all know very well just how “effective" Pakistan air defences were during Operation Sindoor. One cannot help but say, best of luck to Saudi Arabia. The First Test: Taliban Knocks On Pakistan’s Door Pakistan spent February locked in escalating confrontation with Afghanistan’s Taliban regime. On February 21, Pakistani jets hit multiple sites across Nangarhar, Paktika and Khost provinces, targeting camps belonging to Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan and Islamic State-Khorasan. Islamabad called them “intelligence-based, selective operations." Kabul called them violations of sovereignty and claimed civilian casualties, including women and children. Five days later, the Taliban struck back. Afghan forces launched attacks on Pakistani military posts along the 2,600-kilometre Durand Line border on February 26. Pakistan’s information ministry announced “retribution" operations in Chitral, Khyber, Mohmand, Kurram and Bajaur sectors. By February 27, both sides traded fire, claimed victories and reported casualties on the other side. Pakistan faced coordinated military assault from a hostile neighbour. In fact, more recent inputs suggest Pakistani soldiers were beheaded by the Afghans at one of the posts run over by the Taliban. Riyadh’s response to all this? Radio silence. No stern statements. No emergency consultations. No offers of air defence systems or intelligence sharing. Saudi Arabia carried on with business as usual while its “brother nation" exchanged artillery fire with the Taliban. The agreement that promised collective security delivered collective indifference. The Second Test: Iran Strikes Saudi Arabia Two days after the Taliban-Pakistan clashes began, events in the Gulf spiralled dramatically. On February 28, Israel and the United States launched coordinated strikes on Iran, killing Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and decapitating much of the Iranian leadership. Iran retaliated with fury. Dozens of ballistic missiles and drones continue to target Israel, US military bases across the Persian Gulf and neighbouring Arab states that host American forces. Saudi Arabia absorbed direct hits. Iranian missiles struck Riyadh, the Eastern Province, Prince Sultan Airbase and King Khalid International Airport. On Monday, Tehran even struck a Saudi Aramco oil refinery, followed later that night by a massive strike on the US Embassy in Riyadh. Explosions echoed across the Kingdom as air defence systems scrambled to intercept incoming threats. Riyadh condemned the attacks and vowed to “take all necessary measures" to defend itself. Saudi officials spoke of response options and regional security. What they did not do was invoke the mutual defence agreement with Pakistan. No request for military support. No call for joint operations. No mention of the pact signed with such fanfare just five months earlier. Islamabad, for its part, stayed remarkably quiet. No statements promising to fight alongside Riyadh. No offers of air defence batteries or fighter squadrons. No emergency meetings of defence ministers. Pakistan treated Iran’s assault on Saudi Arabia as someone else’s problem, which, judging by its response, it apparently was. The Absurdity of Geography Perhaps Pakistan’s silence stemmed from an inconvenient fact: it shares a 900-kilometre border with Iran. That border runs through Balochistan—a region under the illegal occupation of Pakistan and where the Pakistani military suffers close to daily casualties. Pakistan knows Iran’s reach first-hand. On January 16, 2024, Iranian missiles and drones struck targets in Pakistani Balochistan, killing two children. Tehran claimed it hit hideouts of the Sunni militant group Jaish al-Adl. Islamabad called it an “unprovoked violation" of sovereignty and expelled Iran’s ambassador. Two days later, Pakistan fired back, launching its own strikes into Iran’s Sistan-Baluchestan province in an operation codenamed “Marg Bar Sarmachar." The two countries pulled back from the brink, restored diplomatic ties and agreed to cooperate on border security. But the episode left its mark. Pakistan discovered that provoking Iran carries costs. Iranian precision missiles can reach deep into Balochistan. Now imagine Pakistan trying to fulfil its mutual defence obligations to Saudi Arabia while Iran, angered by Pakistani intervention, targets Pakistani cities, nuclear facilities or military installations. Islamabad would face Iranian wrath on its own soil to defend Saudi interests in the Gulf. That prospect looked considerably less appealing once missiles started flying in late February. And it would be doing so when fighting rages on with the Taliban and there is a constant threat of a major war with India. The Nuclear Umbrella No One Asked For The mutual defence pact carried an especially provocative element from the start. Though the official text avoided explicit mention, both sides hinted strongly that Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal formed part of the deal. Pakistani defence minister Khawaja Asif told domestic media that “what we have, and the capabilities we possess, will be made available under this agreement". A senior Saudi official described it as “a comprehensive defensive agreement that encompasses all military means". Analysts widely interpreted this as Pakistan extending a nuclear umbrella to Saudi Arabia. That ambiguity served useful purposes when the pact got signed. It signalled Saudi determination to reduce dependence on unreliable American security guarantees after Israeli strikes on Qatar in September last year shook Gulf confidence in Washington’s commitment. Once Iran started hitting Saudi territory, the nuclear umbrella question moved from theoretical to urgent. Would Pakistan really risk nuclear confrontation with Iran to defend Saudi Arabia? Would Islamabad escalate to nuclear threats if Iranian missiles kept pounding Riyadh? Would Pakistani deterrence credibly extend across 1,500 kilometres of water and desert to the Arabian Peninsula? The answer, delivered through deafening silence from both capitals, appeared to be no. Pakistan’s nuclear weapons exist to deter India and, secondarily, to ensure regime survival. Using them to shield Saudi oil refineries from Iranian drones was never a realistic proposition. The nuclear umbrella turned out to be decorative rather than functional. What the Pact Actually Delivered The Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement produced several tangible outcomes. Neither involved actual defence. First, it generated excellent optics. The signing ceremony in Riyadh offered photo opportunities, diplomatic communiqués and media coverage highlighting Islamic solidarity and strategic depth. Second, it served domestic political purposes. Shehbaz Sharif returned to Islamabad from his Saudi visit with a trophy achievement to display. The defence pact played well at home, signalling that Pakistan retained a degree of strategic relevance. Mohammed bin Salman demonstrated Saudi Arabia’s ability to forge security arrangements independent of Washington, reassuring a domestic audience shaken by Israeli strikes. Both leaders gained politically from the agreement, regardless of whether it meant anything operationally. Third, it worried the right people. Iran viewed the pact as hostile encirclement. Israel saw it as a nuclear proliferation threat. India watched Pakistani-Saudi defence cooperation with concern. The agreement succeeded in generating strategic anxiety among rivals, which counts as a win in the zero-sum game of regional security competition. What the pact did not deliver was actual mutual defence when time demanded it the most. When both signatories faced military aggression within days of each other in late February, the agreement vanished from public discourse. No joint operations. No coordinated responses. No mutual assistance of any kind. The Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement turned out to be strategically irrelevant when defence actually mattered. The Gulf Between Promise and Performance Defence pacts work when both parties gain more from cooperation than they risk through commitment. NATO endured because Western European security and American global interests aligned for decades. The US-Japan alliance persists because both countries benefit from containing China. Even looser arrangements like the Gulf Cooperation Council function when members face common threats and possess complementary capabilities. The Pakistan-Saudi pact failed its first tests because the underlying logic never quite made sense. Pakistan faces threats from India, Afghanistan and internal separatists. Saudi Arabia worries about Iran, Houthi rebels and regional instability. These threat matrices overlap minimally. When crises hit, each country’s priorities diverged sharply. Pakistan could not help Saudi Arabia against Iran without jeopardising its own security along the Iranian border. Saudi Arabia had neither interest nor capability to intervene in Pakistan’s messy confrontation with the Taliban. The agreement assumed that “Islamic brotherhood" and historical ties would override hard geopolitical realities. February 2026 demonstrated otherwise. Lessons in Strategic Pretence The collapse of the Pakistan-Saudi mutual defence pact offers a useful reminder about the difference between agreements and commitments. Agreements get signed in palaces, announced in press releases and celebrated in editorials. Commitments get tested when missiles start flying and casualties mount. The former requires only diplomatic coordination. The latter demands willingness to spend blood and treasure on someone else’s war. Pakistan and Saudi Arabia discovered they possessed enthusiasm for the former but none for the latter. Fair enough. Most countries prefer symbolic gestures to actual sacrifice. But perhaps next time they could skip the grandiose language about treating aggression against one as aggression against both.